


Like real people do

by tsukinotsurugi (forgetfulAmoeba)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Body Worship, M/M, PWP, Poetry, free verse I think, yes poetic porn hahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22558456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetfulAmoeba/pseuds/tsukinotsurugi
Summary: Pwp taking inspiration from the song of the title. Free verse poetry.
Relationships: Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> I rated this as mature as the main actions are not explicitly described and I do not want to disappoint the expectations of those who come for the porn, but if this does come across as too explicit, please let me know and I will bump up the rating. Also if there are other tags I should be adding. Thank you! :)

The touch, when it comes, is gentle, desiring to know, desiring to please, to worship.  
A stroke of his cheek.  
Hands sliding down his sides, eyes alert for his reaction.  
Thumbs lightly massaging the tops of his hipbones.  
He shudders, and juts his hips up, and that is too much of a giveaway.  
It's okay, Levi.  
It is okay to want.  
Those crystal cut eyes look annoyingly into him.  
Those sad eyes.  
The eyes of a man lost.  
And yet like he has found a treasure.  
He doesn't understand it.

The hands continue their journeying, back up again, to his collarbone, stroking out along their outline.  
Bones, the things to hold up flesh and skin.  
And nerves.  
It feels good.  
It makes him nervous.  
It makes him nervous that it makes him feel good.  
Relax.  
It's okay.  
You are allowed.  
You are allowed to feel good.

Down again, the pads of thumbs over dusky nubs. Rolling, rolling.  
Sensitive.  
He never knew that.  
And it is too much.  
He groans.  
He closes his eyes.  
The wisp of a breath over him.  
He opens them again to see a smile.  
A smile that reaches the eyes.  
A smile that holds the power of joy, not the joy of power.  
A smile that shares the joy of the discovery with him.  
He dares to hope.

Finally, hands that swoop down over his belly, to its nadir, where they stop and wait.  
Can I?  
Yes, you don't need to ask.  
Nobody ever asked.  
Finally touching what's been standing tall, proud, throbbing a little while he stands confused.  
He gasps, then clamps down on the sound.  
Less is more here, less is so much more, it takes him by surprise.  
A hand back up to his cheek, caressing, thumbing over his lips, as if to say  
You can let your voice out.  
While the other works on him as if it were an end in itself, not a means to a destination.  
It is getting harder to think, to hold on to the part of himself that stands apart from this, from all of this.

He parts his legs.  
Do you really want to? Waiting for an answer.  
Really waiting for an answer.  
Where no is an acceptable option.  
A real answer.  
Patiently.

To answer is more terrifying than not to have any choice at all.  
Frightful eyes, in their understanding.  
In their willingness to stand down.  
In their understanding that he is on dangerous ground.  
He wants to be this way. He doesn't want to be this way.  
He nods.  
Have you done this before?  
Yes, he says, yes. But the answer is no. No, not like this.  
He had taken and been taken before, but he had given nothing away.  
But there is nowhere to hide here.  
You don't have to be afraid, said in the softest whisper.  
I will not take what you do not want to give.  
Maybe it is alright to listen to that voice.  
He closes his eyes, and he falls.

And when he reaches back, it is like a dam breaking.  
They kiss.  
Maybe it should have been the first step.  
But here it is the last step.

Fingers, lubricated, probe and gently push in.  
Into him.  
Into the heart of him.  
There is a burning, but it is not where he expects it.  
There is a burning behind his eyelids.

 _He_ pushes in.  
It is safe here.  
He is safe here.  
He clings on tight.

It is okay to be vulnerable here.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to take this opportunity to thank those who've come here, especially from having read some other scrap of writing of mine, for reading my unapproachable writing. (｡>﹏<｡)


End file.
